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H^rjory M^C^-rKihiGron 




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Copyright 1918 
Roland Williamson 

Copyright 1920 
^Marjory M. Carrington 



Story reprinted through the courtesy of the Lookout. 



MAR i7 I92U 



■©CU566100 






. A FANTASY 

<^ One afternoon, shortly before sunset, a 

CO 

^ man and woman, having alighted from a car- 

^ riage, passed Into the yard before their new 

liO home. It was new only in the sense that 

they were about to occupy It for the first time 




in their married life, which was then but a 
few days old. 

The fence about the place had been white- 
washed so long ago that the numerous 
pickets off this dull gray line were scarcely 
missed. There was really little use for 
pickets, as the shrubs within were dry and 
leafless, and where once was a well-trimmed 
grass plot, the yellow leaves from a near-by 
tree lay thick, mouldy and uninviting. 

The house, a few yards from the rickety 
gate, was weather-worn and quite as homely 
as the other dwellings on this 
rough-hewn street of a little ^ 
town. 




Across the muddy thoroughfare, beyond 
a crazy fence, was a lot in which a cow, thin 
of body but sound in lungs, — for she lowed 
lustily at frequent intervals, — nervously and 
hungrily nipped at the wisps of dry grass 
which grew just outside the palings of her 
jail. 

The noise of the departing carriage scared 
out of an adjacent hedge a lone bird which 
came with easy, dipping flight to the old, 
gray hitching-post, where it lighted as if to 
take a look at the new arrivals. It was a 




blue bird. You will find this quiet, dignified 
little bird of happiness lights on the tops of 
old posts or stumps in preference to trees, 
suggesting thereby a bit of blue sky through 
the clouds, the triumph of life over death, 
a tiny feathered preacher in his sombre 
pulpit, whose one text is "The Kingdom of 
God is within you." 

Everything here, except the bird, was dis- 
mal enough for a funeral instead of the 
home-coming of a bridal couple. 

As they stood there looking at these 
sordid surroundings, a small boy 
— evidently an overlooked passenger 
of the carriage — could now be seen 
standing between the man and 
woman. He was a very small boy, 
and with his short golden ringlets, \^ 
violet eyes and rose-colored cheeks 
he looked like an ^_ » _,^ 
angel, more than d^S^gi)^ 
a child of human f^^t^^vf^.-^V 
Tiesh and blood. ^^ — .. ^^^\^u\S^ 







He stood between the man and woman, 
his little fingers of one hand intertwined with 
the delicate ones of the bride, while with the 
other hand — a rosy, chubby fist — he held 
firmly a strong finger of the husband, thus 

linking the two body to p 

body and heart to heart. I 

There must have been 
some hypnotic power ex- 
erted by this strange, ^^^^ 




lovely boy, for when he )| 








^^^^^^^^^^^B^^^^^^^^ 




spoke the faces of his captives wore the hap- 
piest smiles and they seemed indeed to mean 
it when they declared to one another that 
their home was beautiful. 

They were really very honest about it. 
Love — for the boy was none other — had 
done nothing to affect their veracity, but had 
simply blotted out all that was ugly, and made 
them see the home only as it appeared to 
them in their fairest dreams of the future. 
This miracle done, the three went into the 
house and closed the door. 

The honey-moon passed : Other moons 
waxed and waned, bringing joys great and 
small — children, health, honors — the fulfill- 





^eihQ U^ve he ^Ud kIwW5 in Ihe Open 

Ih [te liohtr » 



ment of fair dreams. Misfortune did not 
overlook their home either, but left its bur- 
dens; and even mighty Death dropped into 
that rough-hewn street of a little town, and 
carried off the couple's first born. Through 
days of happiness and sadness Love stood 
by, faithful and patient, pointing out hidden 
joys, disguised blessings, and whispering 
words of comfort in times of distress. 
When the darling of the home was carried 
off, brave little Love made the sorrowing 
man and woman see through their tears that 
the Angel of Death was really the Angel of 
Life. 

But there were plagues that even Love 
could not hold out against. Being brave he 




''l&S^'! 



stood always in the open — in the light — and 
this plague that undid him was a plague of 
darkness. It came into the home so cleverly 
disguised as to escape his ever watchful eye. 

It happened that the couple had met in 
the neighborhood a woman who was most 
friendly and pleasing. She was a sociable 
person, and it was not long before she be- 
came an intimate friend of the family. She 
cared nothing for children, whose frankness, 
it must be said, seemed to annoy her, and 
for that reason she would make her visits at 
night after the little ones had gone to bed. 

After a few calls this entertaining woman 




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brought with her a beautiful bon-bon box 
full of spicy confection which she would at 
intervals, during the evening, give to the 
woman and her husband. 

The box was a wonderful work of art 
made of metals that looked /^^^/^*\ 
like gold and silver, and upon V^ jV-^ 
it was a curious design worked ^^.^^fjig; 
out in brilliant stones. This 
box the woman always kept 
near her. 

Just at first no ill effects 
from the eating of these con- 
fections could be noted; but as 
these visits of this entertain- 
ing woman continued, a 
cooling of the affections 
of the man and woman 
could be observed. Love 
found them growing 
strangely deaf also. 
Formerly the faintest 
whisper of the little fel- 




low controlled their actions, but now he some- 
times suffered before he could make them 
understand his needs. This chilliness was 
taking the light out of Love's eyes, and his 
cheeks grew as white as his little starved 
body. The saddest part of the whole thing 
was that neither the husband nor the wife 
seemed to be the least concerned over it. 

One night, in the now nicely furnished 
parlor, there sat about the table the hus- 
band, wife and the entertaining woman. 
Love, now so pitifully thin and white that 
his great violet eyes had, it would seem, a 
depth of sorrow sufficient to melt the hardest 
hearts, was going from the husband to the 



^^^^^^'1 




wife and back again begging piteously for 
something. He shivered and shook as if he 
was about to freeze, although the night was 
so warm that the windows were open. 
Tears stood in his eyes, and his lower lip 
trembled as — brave to the last — he fought 
to keep those tears from falling. Stabbed 
by the cold, hard, pitiless gaze of the man 
and woman, Love sank to the floor, where 
he lay quite motionless except for a waving 
curl, blown by the breeze that seemed to 
moan as it entered the window. On this 
same breeze was borne the delicate fragrance 







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of the yellow jas- 
mine, a wood flower'\ 

dear to the hearts \^"-^.--. 

/^ - \\^- ------- 

/•<\ of the husband and ^\v ^- - - 

wife, and full of 

associations of the happy days of their court- 
ship. 

Breathing this sweet, familiar fragrance, 
the man and woman stirred and looked to- 
ward the window with hand to ear, as if 
their hearing had been restored. That fra- 
grance had worked this partial cure, and 
what they heard was the mystic chord of 
memory, whose music fell upon their ears 
with a peculiar and indescribable charm. 

They arose and walked quickly into the 

gallery, leaving their guest sitting near the 

■^^^^^^■^ table with a troubled look on her pale face. 

For several minutes the man and woman 
stood at the end of the gallery listening to 
those sweet minor tones that came they knew 



not whence. As they turned to re-enter the 
house a bright Hght shone around them, and 
looking towards the door they beheld two 
angelic figures, at the sight of which they 
hesitated, trembling with excitement and 
speechless with surprise. As if in a dream 
they heard a voice, soft and sweet as the 
gentle murmur of a wind in the midst of 
flowers. 

"Do not be afraid," said the voice. "I 
am Truth. My sister and I heard Love cry- 
ing in here, and we felt you needed us." 

Around Truth shone a white light — her 
chosen symbol. Into the door of the dwell- 
ing this light was sending its bright, pure 





3u<J^enly V(\t corv€5 ^ her qr^^ceful ^Jy 

4lo"snJ|en , 



Seeme( 



rays; and now something whispered to the 
man and woman that in this light only truth 
should stand. 

Following its rays their gaze fell upon 
the costly box upon the table. Instantly its 
metals lost their glitter, and appeared dull 
and leaden. The brilliancy of the stones 
with which it was encrusted faded out, and 
their colors disappeared except that of the 
rubies, which now looked like drops of blood. 
The curious design was gone, and in its stead, 
marked out plainly with those blood red 
stones, appeared a skull and cross-bones, be- 
neath which were the words "Lies — half- 
truths." 

Shocked at this discovery the man and 
woman drew close together, and their hands 
met as of yore with sustaining power. 
When they had recovered themselves a little, 
their gaze fell instinctively upon the owner 
of this frightful casket. She sat as they had 
left her — near the table. In the rays of the 
light her once fine eye seemed to grow small 
and beady; her cheeks and 
throat took on a dull, gray, 




scaly look; from her lips shot forth a 
forked tongue. Across this creature's fore- 
head appeared, as livid as the brand 
of Cain, the word "Gossip." Suddenly 
the curves of her graceful body seemed 
to straighten; and slipping slowly from the 
chair this now hideous reptile fell with a 
soft, sickening thud to the floor where for 
a brief moment, swaying its horrid head to 
and fro, it lay, in every line a serpent. The 
scream of horror from the woman at the 
door seemed not to affect it; but like "the 
deaf adder that stoppeth her ear" it could 
not stand the light, and turning to a side door 
wriggled out into the starless night. 

The man and woman rushed into the 

room, and dropped 
upon their knees by 
the body of their 
Love, that lay like a 




"b"^ 



withered lily, cold and still. In the light of 
Truth they now saw the whole of the tragedy. 
The disguised adder had poisoned them with 
lies and that even deadlier potion — half- 
truths. Their hearts had been hardened and 
their ears stopped, and Love had died be- 
cause of it. Seeing it all very plainly, in an 
agony of grief they cried out: "O Truth, 
Truth, if you had only been here Love would 
not have died." 

For a little while there was a deathly 
stillness in the room, broken only by the sobs 
of the woman. She and her husband, drawn 
close now by this great grief, remained kneel- 
ing. A soft noise, like the sweep of an 
angel's wing, caused them to look up; and 
before them they saw Truth's sister, pure- 
eyed Faith. "You must keep her with you, 
too," said Truth, "for she can see even when 
there is no light." 





Love - Sli^ll hot 



pii.$S 



Faith kneeled beside them. "Do not 
grieve," she said gently, taking up one of 
Love's pale hands and holding it to her cheek. 
"He is not dead but asleep." 

A smile, sweet and faint as the wafted 
fragrance of the jasmine, came to the lips 
of Love. 







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349 



